CW Fiction 1.

Lindsay was the most beautiful girl in the world.

That simple thought had echoed through Monroe's head for weeks now. It was that thought that had sent him to Crue's place the night she was killed. That thought kept him warm hanging on the fire escape as he watched her killer come and go. It helped him hide the spite in his voice while he pretended to be an old friend. It steadied his hand when the time came to do the work. It rang in his ears when he pulled the trigger and sent that baby murdering fuck straight to Hell. And now, it faded softly as he lay on his bed. Tired. Feeling the weight of the sleepless nights push him into the mattress.

He had almost given up to warm, soft sleep when he heard the knock on his door.

"Who's there?" He called, not willing to stand.

In answer, the door burst off it's hinges and sagged against the wall. Men flooded the tiny room. One of them was Crue.

Monroe was dragged to his feet and held before he could claw the gun out from under the pillow. Someone hit him a few times, not to hurt him, just to knock the wind out of him. Get him dizzy; pliant.

Satisfied Monroe wasn't a threat, Crue sauntered up.

"Oh you did good man!" He was beaming ear to ear.

Monroe saw himself through tears, reflected in Crue's sunglasses. A swimming image, a man drowning.

Crue went on, "You cold smoked that sonofabitch and his pals don't even know where to begin looking! I'm really impressed that you pulled this off. When I sold you the gun I just wrote it off as a gamble, but you, you're a jackpot, man!"

Monroe got his breath back and finally cleared his vision. Five men total. Two holding him. Two standing back, probably armed and waiting to do some damage. More than he could handle.

"How's that?" He asked, a crack in his voice spoiled bravado. "Why are you even here, Crue?"

"Because you owe me, man. That piece was given to you with a deep discount," Crue was pacing, looking all around the shitty one room. "And let's not forget who pointed you in the right direction. Got you started."

Monroe didn't argue. He had known going to Crue was a bad decision. But he had heard that thought; Lindsay was a . . . over and over. He had to do something, and Crue was the only way he had seen.

"So I figure you got a fat debt." Crue stopped and looked Monroe in the eye again.

So close. So very close.

"The good news though, is that I already know how you're gonna pay me back! You just need to keep doing what you did tonight. I'll give you the names and places, you keep pulling the trigger. Once we're all square, you're done. And you may even leave this arrangement a richer man." Crue's eyes flicked around the room again. "Hell, you'd fuckin' HAVE to."

Crue waved an envelope.

Monroe's blood froze. "What's in that?"

"Pictures. A tape. The papers on a gun that used to be in my possession." Crue was loving this. "All the shit I need to make a dog behave. Now, there's copies of this stuff out there, and they might go to the cops, or they might go to Mr. Gregori's pals if you can't play ball."

Monroe twitched hearing the name of Lindsay's killer. He hadn't thought of his name in days. Had forgotten he had a name.

"I'm no killer." The men holding him tightened up a bit.

"What? Are you going to pretend you didn't just paint the walls with that fuckin' ruskie's head? I'm sorry man, but things are different now. You walked out that door tonight like anyone else, but you walked back in a murderer."

Monroe was sure Crue had been practicing that line. Maybe it was from some movie? He let the silence stretch.

Well, okay. Why not? Now that Lindsay was gone there wasn't much else anyway.

"Alright," Monroe croaked. "You got me by the balls. I'll do it."

"I knew you'd come around Monroe. You're a smart guy." Crue turned to leave and the thugs holding Monroe shoved him to the floor. The others kept him covered as Crue made his way out. "You should fix this door, it sticks," he laughed at his own joke and then added, "I'll call you, soon. Stay sharp and this could work out well for both of us."

Monroe watched them leave before he stood up. He leaned the door back in its frame and lay back on the bed.

A few jobs for Crue and then maybe this would all go away. He could try to get back to living life instead of taking it.

But Crue, he would be the last one.

The last job.